Worms and Honey
by Roving Otter
Summary: Kariya lies dying in the street after his battle with Tokiomi. But in this version of events, Kirei doesn't bring him back to the Matou mansion. Someone else finds him, instead. Unexpected alliances are formed, fates are changed, and Kariya must finally confront his greatest enemy…all while he struggles to hold onto his fraying sanity.
1. Chapter 1

Pain. Pain. Pain. Like a never-ending drumbeat. Pain and pain and pain. He had been cut into a hundred squirming pieces, and each one was burning alive.

He should be dead. Why wasn't he? _I'm ready. Please…_

A face flashed through his head: a little girl, eyes empty. A broken little girl lying motionless in a pit, insects swarming over every inch of her naked flesh. _Sakura._

Kariya Matou's heart stirred in his chest, struggling to beat. He couldn't die. Not yet. Not while she still suffered, helpless, in that underground hell. _Move, _he thought. But his muscles ignored the signals from his brain. He wondered, dimly, if his legs were shattered.

_Move._

The finger of his right hand twitched. The rest of him remained immobile. The pavement was hard and cold beneath his cheek. _Pavement. _He was lying on a street.

A worm wriggled beneath the skin of his neck. They never seemed to rest. Sometimes, late at night he heard them shifting around inside his skull. Sometimes they spoke to him, grating out mockery in the voice of his father, or whispering words of encouragement in the voices of those he loved.

_Hold on, Uncle Kariya. We're with you! _Rin.

_Didn't you promise to play with us in the park again? _Sakura.

_Kariya…you're so warm… _Aoi.

He was losing his mind. He'd known it would happen, sooner or later—and if that was the case, it meant he didn't have much time left. He only hoped he could hold out a little longer. Another week. A few more days. Long enough to win. Long enough to save her.

He knew—in a distant, abstract way—that he had become something out of a horror movie, something that shouldn't exist. He no longer cared.

At some point, Kariya had stopped thinking of himself as a real person. He was too disgusting to be a person. Too pathetic. He was something else—a shadow, a ghost, a broken puppet lurching endlessly and mechanically forward, driven by a single purpose.

By day, he wandered streets alone, dragging his broken body from alley to alley as the worms bred and fed inside his flesh, hiding from the eyes of the world. At night, sleeping in dark alleys alone, he dreamed of the days in the park, playing with Rin and Sakura as Aoi sat nearby, reading her book and smiling her soft, gentle smile.

Those days were gone. He knew that. But if he could save Sakura, it was enough.

_If I could just move…_

So tired.

_Move…_

* * *

"Saber…look." Irisviel lay a hand on Saber's arm. "Someone's there. Up ahead."

"I see him."

The man lay stomach-down, clad in a dirty, oversized hoodie. Beneath the hood, she could make out a shock of silver hair and part of his face. The skin had a ravaged, withered look. Burn scars?

"Do you think he's still alive?" Irisviel asked quietly.

"I can't sense any mana." It was sheer chance that they'd found him at all. After Saber slew Caster's hell-beast with Excalibur, she and Irisviel had started a sweep of the area to make sure it was secure. They hadn't found anything. Until now.

"Stay here," Saber said. "I'll take a look." She approached slowly and lowered herself into a crouch, examining the motionless form. A faint, sickly-sweet smell of rotting filled her nostrils. She glimpsed movement beneath the man's skin—worms, or maggots—and turned away, pressing a hand over her nose and mouth. Judging by the smell, he had been dead at least a day. Not a casualty of the battle, then. Just some lost soul.

A sad end for any human being—to die alone in this dark and silent alley. Saber looked down at the corpse once more. A blind, milky blue eye stared at nothing. She reached out to smooth his eyelid shut…and her shoulders stiffened in surprise as she touched his skin.

Still warm.

"Saber?"

"Wait."

Carefully, she rolled him onto his back, noting as she did that he was not nearly as old as she had first assumed. The undamaged half of his face was almost handsome, making the blinded, ravaged half all the more jarring. Holding her breath, she placed her ear against his chest. A heartbeat—faint but unmistakable—reached her ears.

Saber looked over her shoulder at Irisviel. "I don't know how it's possible, but he's still alive. Let's get him to a hospital." She started to lift him off the bloodstained pavement…and then she spotted the Command Seal on his right hand. A chill slid down her spine.

His condition had deteriorated so much, he barely resembled the photograph she'd seen, but there was no mistaking that Seal. For a moment, she remained motionless, frozen.

Irisviel approached. When her gaze fell on the man, she gasped. "This is…"

"Yes," Saber said quietly. "Kariya Matou."

In a flash she remembered the looming, black form of Berserker, the red glow of its eyes as it shambled toward her. She flinched. Saber had never feared dying in honorable combat, but fighting that thing…it hadn't been a duel. It had been like facing down a mindless, slavering beast, something without reason or honor. Even so, there had been something oddly sadabout the creature. Its wounded-animal howls echoed in her head.

And this man was its Master.

She drew her sword and held it against his throat. "You might want to look away," she told Irisviel.

Irisviel reached out and placed a hand on her wrist. "Saber," she said quietly. "Wait. I know he's our enemy, but…are you sure?"

"Believe me, I don't like ending it this way, either. But if we leave him here, he'll be dead within hours. No doctor could save him, at this point. The most merciful thing we can give him now is a quick death."

Still, it felt like murder. To slay a helpless, sick, unconscious opponent was the height of dishonor and cowardice, an action befitting an assassin, not a knight. This went against the code of chivalry—against everything she stood for.

But she was a Servant. To pass up this opportunity would be foolish. After all the lives she had taken, what was one more? She gritted her teeth and pressed the edge of the blade against his throat.

"_I _can save him," Irisviel said.

Saber blinked, caught off guard. "You…are you sure?"

"No," she admitted. "But there's a chance."

"What about Kiritsugu? What would he think?"

A few heartbeats of silence passed. "I want to see him win this war," she said. "I love him, after all. And I believe in his ideals. But…you are my friend. I know you, Artoria. If you do this, it will haunt you." She lowered her gaze. "It's your choice. Whatever you decide, I won't intervene."

Saber's jaw tightened. She stared down into Kariya's face. At last, she sheathed her sword. "Let's get him to the car, then." She lifted him into her arms. It was like lifting a bundle of sticks. "We'll take him to the base. After that…we'll figure it out."

The tension eased out of Irisviel's shoulders.

They began to walk, Saber carrying Kariya cradled against her chest, like a groom carrying his bride. He made an unwieldy burden, being taller than her, but Saber's strength was far greater than a human's—and for a grown man, the Matou Master was astonishingly light, as if he'd been hollowed out.

Kariya stirred in her arms, moaning faintly. He coughed, and a splash of blood landed on her shirt. Something moved, white and wriggling within the red. Worms. She nearly dropped him, but managed to stifle her reflexes. The worms were already dying, unable to live outside their host's body, their movements slowing as they squirmed on her shirt.

He didn't have much longer. His weak, erratic breathing told her that he was clinging to life by a thread. The blood on her shirt suggested his organs had already been damaged by the parasites inside him. She quickened her pace.

He stirred again. His breath rasped softly in his throat; his good eye rolled and twitched beneath the lid, struggling to open. "Aoi…san…" He coughed again. "Is that you?"

She wondered who Aoi-san was. His wife? A lover? But he'd used the formal honorific.

It didn't matter. If it would calm him, she would say whatever was necessary; given his current state, he was unlikely to remember this exchange. "Yes, it's me," she said quietly. "I'm taking you to a safe place. Now rest and conserve your strength."

He quieted, slipping into merciful unconsciousness.

Saber kept walking, Irisviel close behind her. With every tortured, ragged breath Kariya drew, she was sure it would be his last. There was nothing left of him. He felt so brittle, as though he might crumble apart in her arms. Was this the power of the Matou—a power which ate its users alive from the inside? Even so, this level of damage surely wasn't normal, even for them.

What could have compelled him to take on this burden? What could be worth such agony?

When they reached the car, Saber opened the back door and maneuvered Kariya onto the backseat. There was a blanket folded up in the trunk; she retrieved it and draped it over him, then got behind the wheel. With Irisviel in the passenger's seat, she started up the engine. She'd just have to hope they didn't get pulled over on the way back—explaining why they had an unconscious, blood-spattered man in the backseat might be awkward.

_Have I gone mad?_ She was risking their safety to save an enemy Master, without her own Master's knowledge. Why?

Kiritsugu would not approve. She was sure of that. If he used a command seal and ordered her to kill Kariya, she would have no choice. But until that moment, she would act under the power of her own will, according to her own code and conscience.

Irisviel was silent, but Saber could feel the weight of her gaze.

"We may be able to turn this to our advantage. He may have valuable information," Saber said. "The more we learn about our enemies, the greater our chances of winning the Grail. In any case, if he dies, his command seals may simply pass to a new Master, and that will throw our plans into chaos. For the moment, at least, keeping him alive as a prisoner is in our best interest."

She was rationalizing, and she knew it.

Saber's gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel. "If he makes a threatening move, I won't hesitate to kill him."

"I know," Irisviel.

As they drove, Saber glanced into the rearview mirror. Kariya remained unconscious, but still, she could see the slight movement of his chest as he breathed. Amidst the pity and revulsion, she felt a strange flicker of admiration. His body was in shambles; by all logic, he ought to be dead, yet he hung on seemingly through sheer stubborn willpower.

This man was strong.


	2. Chapter 2

Kariya floated in a red haze. Voices flickered along the edges of his consciousness. He was dimly aware of a rumbling vibration, like an engine. He tried to open his eye, but exhaustion dragged him down.

He slept, but not peacefully.

* * *

When Kariya Matou was six years old, one of his teachers—upon hearing that he had no storybooks at home—gave him a collection of European fairytales.

The book was old, the cover faded and scratched, the spine creaky and torn. But he devoured it. The world inside the pages was bright and simple: a world filled with brave knights and pure-hearted maidens imprisoned in towers, guarded by dragons or evil wizards.

The wizards all wore funny, pointy hats and had white beards, and the spells they used were just made-up rhymes. Real magic didn't work that way. It was a lot harder. But even at that age, Kariya knew he wasn't supposed to talk about magic with the teachers at school.

They weren't supposed to know about the worms, either. Or the bruises.

One evening, Zouken found the book hidden under Kariya's pillow. "What is this?" He flipped through the pages. "What sort of simpleton am I raising? If you have time to fill your mind with this nonsense, you aren't working hard enough at your spells." He whapped Kariya on the side of the head with the book.

Kariya flinched. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, head lowered. "I'm sorry, Father."

"Where did you get this thing?"

"F-from school."

"Well, you won't be going to school anymore. Your magical education is far more important, anyway. I can teach you the necessary math and language skills myself."

Zouken burned the book, but the stories remained engraved into Kariya's mind and heart.

Late at night, when he was lonely, he would fantasize about that bright world. Sometimes he was the knight, saving the princess—someone soft and gentle. Someone he could protect.

And sometimes he was the one being rescued. He'd imagine himself alone, locked in a dark room at the top of a tall tower. Then the door would open, and sunlight would flood in, and there were warm, strong arms around him, carrying him to a place where he wouldn't have to be sad or lonely. He never saw his rescuer's face. Just armor, bright and shiny, like the sun.

* * *

When Kariya turned ten, his father's cruelty became more creative. Until that point, Zouken had limited his punishments to swats and slaps, with the occasional harder blow when Kariya was particularly slow to grasp some concept.

He no longer remembered exactly what he'd done to displease the old mage, that day. A disrespectful remark, maybe? A botched lesson?

He remembered sitting upright in front of his desk, back stiff, breathing rapidly as Zouken pushed a wriggling, half-mature Crest Worm into his ear canal. "Hold very still for the next three hours, without screaming, and I'll remove this little fellow," the old man had told him. "If you scream even once, or struggle, he'll burrow deeper—into your inner ear—and permanently deafen you on one side. You can manage three hours without moving or screaming, can't you?"

Kariya remained sitting, breathing in small, shuddering hitches, as the worm nibbled on the inside of his ear.

* * *

By the time he was thirteen, nights in the worm room were a regular part of his "education."

He lay on the cold stone floor, eyes and mouth shut tightly, the bugs crawling over every exposed inch of skin. There was no respite from the sting of their bites, no chance to sleep. He learned, little by little, to shut down his mind during those times, to retreat deep into himself where the worms couldn't reach him.

"Why do you hate me?" he asked Zouken once, his voice cracking. He'd just emerged from a twelve-hour session in the worm room, and he could no longer feel his body. He seemed to be floating somewhere outside it.

"Hate you?" Zouken raised his eyebrows. "What a stupid question. I'm making you into a great mage. You should thank me." The old man peered at him with his dark eyes, eyes like empty sockets in his papery white skull of a face. "You have an innate talent for magic, Kariya. You're far stronger than your brother. It's a mage's temperament that you lack. But that will change. Little by little, your mind and body will toughen. You'll learn to cast aside useless emotions and focus on what matters."

"And what is that?" Kariya whispered.

"Power, of course. In our world, it is everything." He smiled slyly. "Of course, you won't surpass _me. _But one day, you may be strong enough to be of use. If you don't break, first." He turned and walked down the hall, his cane clunking against the stones.

"Father."

Zouken froze.

"Whose bones are they? In the worm room."

"Ah. I gave them a live calf as a treat. They prefer prey that struggles. It excites them."

"They were human bones," Kariya said. "I saw the skull."

"Oh?" Zouken didn't turn. "Did you, now."

"Did you kill someone, Father?"

Zouken turned to face him, hands folded over his cane. "And if I did? What would you do about it? Even now, the worms are chewing up those bones. By tonight, there'll be nothing left. Not a scrap of evidence."

He stared, mouth dry. "Who?" he whispered.

"How should I know? Some imbecile, blundering around in the woods, pissing on trees. Possibly homeless, definitely a drunkard. And a trespasser."

"You can't just murder someone for a reason like that! If the Mage's Association knew—"

"They don't trouble themselves over such minor issues. They only stir themselves off their laurels when rogue mages threaten the secrecy of the whole trade. One dead drunk won't be missed. Besides…you're a mere child. Even if you told them, do you really think they would take your word over mine? Don't be a fool."

He walked away, leaving Kariya standing alone in the hall, sick to his stomach and shaking with helpless rage.

He thought of the bones on the floor, sad and pale. _Some imbecile, _Zouken had said. But a person. A person who had probably screamed in terror as he was eaten alive.

How many other lives had Zouken taken? How many more would he take?

* * *

That night, Kariya took a butcher's knife from the kitchen, snuck up to Zouken's bedroom, and slipped inside. Teeth clenched, he hunched over Zouken's sleeping form, braced himself, and shoved the knife between the old man's ribs.

Zouken opened his eyes. He let out a choking cough. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and he let out a wet, bubbling sound. At first, Kariya thought he was screaming. Then he saw the smile contorting Zouken's face.

The old man was _laughing._

Kariya shoved the knife deeper and twisted. He trembled, panting, half-blinded by tears. Zouken raised one hand, mumbling the words of a spell. A blast knocked Kariya backwards, into the nearest wall. His head bounced off the stone, and his vision swam. He slumped to the floor, struggling to hold onto consciousness.

Zouken sat up and calmly yanked the knife out of his chest. He tossed it to the floor, spattering blood across the tiles. "Do you know," he said, "some worms can live on even if they're cut in half? Each half regenerates into a new, separate creature. It's a sort of immortality." He placed his hand over the wound, and green light emanated from his palm, sealing the rupture.

"Monster." Kariya forced the word through gritted teeth.

Zouken spat out another wad of blood, wiped the back of one hand across his mouth, and stood. "A clumsy attempt," he said. "Still, you managed to puncture a lung. Had you been a little more decisive, you might have reached my heart." He picked up his cane and advanced toward Kariya, slowly but purposefully.

Kariya staggered to his feet, his head still spinning. He roared and lunged, swinging his fists.

There was a sharp sting on his neck. Dizziness rolled over him. He slumped to the floor like a string-cut puppet. A large, gray insect buzzed across the room and landed on Zouken's shoulder.

"The sting will keep you disoriented and immobile for a few hours, at least," Zouken said.

Kariya planted one hand on the floor, straining to push himself up, but his muscles remained limp and unresponsive. He twitched, groaning. Drool pooled beneath his mouth.

Zouken grabbed his hair and hoisted him up.

"Do you know why you failed to kill me, Kariya? Hesitation. You faltered at the last second_. That _is the weakness I need to burn out of you." He held up his free hand. A tiny crest worm, barely thicker than a human hair, squirmed out of a bulging vein on the back of his wrist. "My friend is going to live inside you, from now on."

Zouken's hand came closer, closer to Kariya's face. The Crest Worm leapt, latching onto his cheek, and crawled toward his eye. Kariya let out a choked cry as the worm wriggled in through his tear duct. A sharp, piercing pain shot through his head as it burrowed deeper, into the meat of his eye socket.

"My friend will alert me whenever you're close," Zouken said. "And I'll be able to see whatever you're seeing. It'll make sneak attacks much harder, in the future."

Kariya's breathing came hard and fast. He could feel a squirming sensation inside his skull as the worm nestled itself snugly somewhere between the back of his eyeball and his brain.

"I probably should have done this a long time ago," Zouken said, "but I confess, I didn't think you had the guts to make an attempt on my life. I may make a mage out of you, yet."

He leaned closer, and his breath—dry and sour, like the air from a crypt—struck Kariya's face. "Of course, I'll have to punish you for this."

Kariya drew in another raspy breath. "Fine." His voice emerged hoarse and faint, almost inaudible. "Throw me into the worm room. I'm used to it."

"Oh, you're not going to the worm room. Tonight, you're staying here with me."

Kariya's chest clenched. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.

"I'm going to introduce you to some new forms of punishment. We're linked through the worm now. I can inflict pain in any way I choose. I can even play with your sense of time—stretch a few minutes into an hour, or an hour into an eternity."

Help me, Kariya thought to no one in particular. Please. Please. Someone. Anyone. Help me.

Of course, there was no answer. No one was coming to save him. His stupid, childish fantasies of rescue now felt like a mockery. There was no knight in shining armor to scoop him up and carry him away from this hell. He was alone.

"Now," Zouken said, "let's begin."

* * *

The night passed in a haze of nauseating agony. Afterward, the specifics would be fuzzy in his head. Probably a mercy.

He knew that he screamed for a long time. At some point, he stopped screaming and began quietly begging for it to stop. And then, for a while, he made no sound at all. He could not remember a time when the pain hadn't existed; it was the only reality, stretching on and on into the past and future. He barely remembered who he was or why he was there.

But he knew that he hated Zouken. The hatred was dull, smoldering yet cold. It filled his whole being.

"Yes," Zouken whispered. "Those are the eyes I wanted to see." He caressed Kariya's face, almost tenderly. "Those are a mage's eyes."

Deep down, somewhere beneath the layers of pain and hate, something else flickered.

_No._

"Hm…what is that, now?" Zouken leaned in.

_I won't be like you. I won't be your doll. I'll escape—_

"Not done yet?" Zouken smiled. "Well…we still have a few hours before dawn."

* * *

Saber pulled the curtains shut and lit a lamp in the corner of the room.

Kariya lay unconscious on a padded floor-mat in the small cottage that Saber and Irisviel now shared. He moaned faintly, face contorting, as though troubled by bad dreams.

Irisviel approached, lowered herself to her knees, and looked down at the inert form on the floor. Kariya's breathing was weaker than before. His blind, paralyzed eye remained half-open, the milky iris visible; his other eye was closed.

She raised her eyes to Saber's. "I may need you to help restrain him, once the healing starts."

"You think he'll struggle?"

"It will hurt him. But it's necessary, to save his life. Are you ready?"

Saber nodded.

Irisviel unzipped Kariya's hoodie, revealing the grimy shirt beneath, and carefully placed her palms on his chest. Her eyes slipped shut. Soft, shimmering green light enveloped her hands.

For a moment or two, nothing happened. Then Kariya's body jerked, and his good eye snapped open. He gasped, drawing in breath…then screamed. Blood erupted from his mouth, spilling onto his shirt and the floor. White worms wriggled in the tide of red. Saber flinched back. Kariya began to thrash, still screaming, as the glow around Irisviel's hands brightened.

"Hold him down!" Irisviel snapped.

Saber dropped to her hands and knees and pinned Kariya to the floor-mat by his shoulders.

He vomited again. More worms poured out, glistening and white. Saber gagged. "What's happening?"

"His body is purging itself of the parasites," Irisviel said.

Saber wanted to look away. But she had brought him here—this was her doing. Averting her eyes felt like an act of cowardice. She forced herself to watch as more worms slithered and wriggled out of his mouth. Tiny white maggots crawled from his nostrils, his ears; a few wriggled their way out from around the socket of his blind eye and dribbled down his cheek like tears. They broke through the skin of his forehead and neck. Blood spurted out as they struggled free. Bile filled Saber's mouth, and she swallowed.

Kariya was gasping for breath. He looked straight at her, his eye wide open, glassy with pain. _Aware. _Her throat tightened. Again, she felt the urge to look away, but she held his gaze. Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "It's all right," she heard herself say.

He coughed. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. "I can't die," he croaked. "Sakura—Sakura is still—"

"We won't let you die. Bear it just a little longer."

His chest heaved. His mouth opened, and another gush of blood and worms poured out.

Irisviel remained bent over him, her hands pressed to his chest, her slender shoulders trembling with exertion as she poured healing energy into him.

Kariya's hand groped at empty air, fingers contorting. Without thinking, Saber gripped his hand and squeezed it. "Hold on," she whispered. She stared into his good eye until the rest of the world faded.

She dared not look away. She felt a superstitious certainty that if she looked away for even a moment, they would lose him—as though their linked gazes were an umbilical cord anchoring him to this world.

"Hold on."

* * *

The healing went on for almost an hour.

Saber had slain men in battle, had seen their innards spill out like burst rotten fruit. She had seen battlefields so bloody the ground turned red and wet. But by the time Kariya lapsed into unconsciousness, she was shaking uncontrollably. Pools of blood and worms lay cooling on the floorboards. Most of the parasites were already dead; a few still twitched.

Kariya's blind eye remained open, half his face still slack and ravaged, but his breathing had steadied.

The white glow faded from Irisviel's hands. She exhaled…then crumpled to the floor.

Saber fell to her knees and gathered Irisviel into her arms. "Irisviel!"

"I'm fine," she said with a faint smile. "Just tired. Bring me to the shed, please."

Saber carried Irisviel into the backyard, opened the stone shed, and lay her carefully down in the magic circle drawn there. "I'm sorry," Saber said. "I shouldn't have allowed this healing. Not knowing you're already in poor health."

"It was my idea. Remember?" Irisviel caught her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I told you, Saber—what's wrong with me is a fundamental defect in my construction. Exerting myself won't make much difference, in the long run." She smiled again, wanly. "Go and check on our patient. It would be a waste if he were to die after all that, don't you think?"

Saber hesitated, then nodded. "Call my name if you need anything. I'll hear you."

She left Irisviel resting on the stone floor, the magic circle glowing softly around her.

* * *

Kariya lay motionless, breathing slowly. Saber pressed an ear to his chest. His heartbeat was steady.

She fetched a mop and bucket and got to work cleaning up the worms and blood. A few of the creatures were still twitching. She tried not to look at them.

How many hundreds of those things had he held inside his body?

A faint tapping came from the window. Saber turned to see several large insects, like dragonflies, butting their heads against the glass. She approached slowly. The insects circled, buzzing. Their bodies were a flat steel-gray, their wings iridescent, with glints of green and purple.

Odd. Perhaps they were like moths, attracted to the light inside the house. Or...were they Kariya's?

She closed the curtains and turned her attention back to her task.

Once the floor was reasonably clean, she changed the blankets and peeled off Kariya's filthy, bloodstained shirt. His upper body was scrawny and completely covered with scars. Shallow wounds marred his abdomen, as though the skin had been eaten away, revealing the raw meat beneath. It appeared Irisviel hadn't had enough strength to heal him completely; just expelling the parasites from his body had left her exhausted.

Saber cleaned the wounds as best she could, using soapy water, then antiseptic, and bandaged them. By the time she'd finished, his abdomen was completely swathed in linen strips. His sweatpants were still relatively clean, compared to the shirt. She left them alone. Better to leave him with some modicum of dignity.

She sat on the floor, her back against the wall, and stared at their new guest—or captive—or whatever he was. For a while, she just listened to his breathing. _Sakura. _He had spoken of someone named Sakura. He'd said that he couldn't die yet.

Had he chosen to bear this cross for the sake of another, then? To save someone he loved?

It made sense. A man seeking mere glory or power would not desecrate his own body in this way.

It shouldn't matter, she told herself. He was the enemy.

_Kariya Matou. _She knew so little about him, aside from what Kiritsugu had told her. The black sheep of the secretive Matou family. The disgraced runaway who had cut off all ties with the world of magic and then inexplicably returned to fight in the Grail War.

Saber sighed, wiped the sweat from her brow, and prepared to keep watch over him until he woke.


	3. Chapter 3

Kariya woke with a coppery taste in his mouth. Blood—his own, no doubt. He opened his eye a crack, but his vision was foggy and dim.

He felt as weak as a newborn. Hollowed. Scraped out.

And yet the gnawing, burning pain which had been his constant companion for the past year had receded to a dull ache.

The worms…were gone?

No. Not entirely. A few still moved deep in the hollows of his body, sending little twinges through his flesh. But he felt closer to alive than he had for months.

_What happened to me? _He fumbled through the haze inside his head. The last thing he clearly remembered was fighting Tokiomi on the bridge, and then…

_I died. _Or at least, he remembered burning, falling.

There had been a girl. A girl with wheat-colored hair, looking at him with clear green eyes that seemed far too old to belong in her smooth face. There had been someone else, too, a young woman with white hair. But it was the green-eyed girl he remembered most clearly.

He struggled to focus his eye. Had the fire damaged it? Panic lurched in his chest. If he was blinded, could he still fight? Maybe he could use Berserker as a seeing-eye dog. Maybe—

"You're awake."

His head turned toward the voice. He rubbed at his eye, and at last, his vision cleared. Relief rushed through him.

Someone there…someone sitting on the floor, a few feet away…

It was her. The golden-haired girl. He recognized her now; he'd glimpsed her during the first battle of the Grail War. Saber. The Einzberns' Servant. He'd been captured by the enemy.

He lurched to his feet.

Saber stood, mirroring his movement. In an instant, she materialized her armor around her and drew her sword. For a few heartbeats, they stared at each other in silence.

"I will not attack first," she said. "But if you strike, I will not hold back."

Kariya's ragged breathing echoed through the room. He stood hunched over, clutching his bad arm, teeth gritted. The few remaining worms stirred inside him, sensing his agitation. Should he summon Berserker? He could feel his Servant's dark energy roiling in the back of his head, always there, ready to erupt.

But materializing Berserker was a huge drain on his mana. Already, he was weakened, his legs shaking; it took all his strength just to stay on his feet. If he called for his Servant now, there was a good chance he'd lose consciousness. Or die.

Saber's eyes never left him. Still, she made no move to attack. Why?

His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the situation. If he was a captive, why wasn't he bound? He looked down at his bandaged stomach. They'd treated his wounds. His gaze darted around the room, which looked surprisingly ordinary. "What is this place?" His voice emerged hoarse and scratchy.

"A safe house. We found you injured in the street and brought you here."

His fingers tightened on his arm. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

"To kill an opponent at their weakest would be an act of cowardice. It goes against the code of chivalry."

_Chivalry…_

The words stirred faint memories. A stab of pain pierced Kariya's chest. He covered his face with one hand and laughed—a bitter, pained sound.

Saber tensed. "Does that amuse you?"

The laugh broke down into a cough, which he muffled against one fist. "No," he whispered. He smiled, though it probably looked more like a contorted grimace. The muscles on the scarred half of his face didn't work so well, anymore. "I'm laughing at myself. I'm such a pathetic sight, even my enemies pity me."

"Chivalry is not about pity," she replied. "It's about decency. Make no mistake—I do not take you lightly, Kariya Matou. If you summon your Servant to attack me, I'll fight back with all my strength. But I am a knight. And it's the duty of a knight to help those in pain and distress, whoever they are."

A knight. Well, she certainly looked the part. Muffled, half-forgotten emotions stirred in the depths of his soul. He felt as though he were having a strange dream. Maybe he was. These days, his entire life felt like a fever-dream; it was hard to separate reality from hallucination.

"Well, Matou-san? Will you summon your Berserker? Or will you walk out that door?" She brought her sword up with a dramatic swish. The blade itself was invisible, a swirling distortion in the air. "Choose."

Berserker rumbled inside his skull, sending shivers of dark lightning through his nerves. _Kill her, _an inner voice whispered.

He shook his head, like a horse trying to dislodge a fly from its ear, and pressed a hand over his bandaged abdomen.

"Are—are you the one who healed me?"

"That was Irisviel."

"Your Master?"

"My friend."

Her Master was someone else, then. Who?

He pushed the thoughts away. He didn't understand any of this, but he couldn't stay here. He had to find Tokiomi. Had to finish the job he'd started. Had to—

Wait. Why did he need to kill Tokiomi, again?

_It's his fault. He's the one who gave Sakura to Zouken. He's the reason for Aoi's suffering. _The hissing voice in his head sounded like his own. But it was warped, distorted. _You want to kill him. Don't deny it. I can smell your hatred. What are you waiting for? _

He was no longer certain which thoughts were his and which were Berserker's. The realization brought a flash of panic. How long had he been mistaking his Servant's bloodlust for his own? Was there even a difference, anymore?

A sharp pain lanced through his skull. His brain was splitting, like the segments of an orange.

Saber watched him, green eyes cool and inscrutable, sword poised. "What's wrong?"

He cradled his head in both hands. "Berserker…"

_You wanted this power so you could punish the ones who stole your happiness, didn't you?_

_No! That's not why I'm doing this! I—Sakura—_

An animal roar filled his head. _Stop stalling, you fool! This woman is our enemy! KILL HER NOW! KILL THEM ALL!_

"_Shut up, already!" _Kariya roared back. With all his willpower, he shoved Berserker down into the depths of his own mind, binding him with chains of thought.

Berserker's dark, seething presence reluctantly dimmed. Kariya collapsed to the floor, panting, exhausted. Cold sweat bathed his body.

Saber was looking at him with a mixture of fascination and unease. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

"Just…talking to my Servant." Kariya swallowed. The anger was fading, replaced by the burn of shame. What had he become? _I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. _"I should go. I—I don't want to hurt you."

"An odd thing to say, considering you chose to fight in this war. Though, frankly, I doubt you're in any condition to hurt me."

"Please—just—stay back." He tried to push himself off the floor, promptly collapsed again, and lay in a limp heap, like a discarded ragdoll. He managed to roll onto his back and tried to draw his legs up, to push himself into a sitting position, but he couldn't even manage that.

She was right. Wrestling Berserker into submission had sapped the last of his strength. He could barely move.

Saber stared at him, her face an inscrutable mask. "Who is Sakura?"

He drew his breath in sharply.

His first impulse was to respond, _I don't know what you're talking about. _He didn't want to tell anyone his reason for fighting. He'd made the decision to do this alone, to avoid dragging outsiders into this miserable mess.

But this woman had saved his life. He owed her some sort of explanation.

"She's a daughter of the Tohsaka family," he whispered. "She was taken from her parents and given away, like a gift. As if she had no thoughts or feelings or wishes of her own. Now she's the prisoner of a sadistic monster—my father. He uses her as he used me. As a host for his Crest Worms."

Saber's expression remained calm, but he noticed a slight tightening around her eyes and mouth. "What was done to you…he did this to a child, as well? Against her will?"

"Yes." His throat tightened. "Every day she's in that place, she endures tortures you can't imagine. Locked in a dark room, forced to serve as a breeding ground for the worms. She doesn't even cry anymore. It's as if she's forgotten how. I struck a bargain with my father—that if I won the Grail for him, he would release her."

Saber stared at him, eyes wide.

He sat up, wincing at the ache in his muscles. "I took the Crest Worms into my body to expand my magic circuits…and because it amuses my father to see me suffer. That was part of the bargain, too. I know the worms will kill me, eventually. But I'm the only chance she has. So I have to win." He closed his eye. "It's my own fault Sakura was given to the Matou. I was supposed to be the heir, but I left. I ran away. I should have known that Zouken would just find a replacement. This is all because of my stupidity. I have to make it right. No matter what it costs me."

He hadn't intended to tell her so much. The words had just spilled out of him. It felt like an eternity since he'd spoken to another human being. That brief conversation with Aoi in the park, and his heated exchange with Tokiomi on the bridge…that was the extent of the human contact he'd had, since he left the Matou mansion. Berserker wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Saber was silent, but he could feel the weight of her gaze. His skin prickled, and he was suddenly, acutely aware that he was naked from the waist up, the map of scars on his skin exposed. In a flash, he remembered the shock and revulsion in Aoi's eyes when she'd glimpsed his new face for the first time.

He'd known for years that she could never return his feelings. She hadn't wanted him even when he was whole. How could she possibly want him now, when he was…this?

Still, seeing that disgust had broken something inside him.

Saber spoke, pulling him from his thoughts: "That's why you seek the Grail, then? To save this child? That's the _only_ reason?"

"I don't care about winning this war, if that's what you're asking. I never did." The Grail War had always struck him as a cruel, senseless waste of life. So many participants had died, over the years—and worse, innocent bystanders. It was an orgy of blood to satisfy the mages' insane, endless thirst for power and glory. Another reminder of why he had always hated the world of magic, why he'd been so desperate to escape it.

Slowly, Saber sheathed her sword. Her armor dematerialized. Beneath it she wore a plain, androgynous black suit. "Stay here," she said. "I'll be right back."

"You're not going to bind me? Aren't you afraid that I'll escape?"

"I told you. You're free to walk out that door anytime you wish."

"I can't imagine your Master would approve of this."

"I do many things he doesn't approve of. I'm a Servant, not a mindless doll."

_He. _Her Master wasn't the white-haired woman, then. Who was it?

"If you're truly in this war to save a little girl, then—while you and I might be opponents for the moment—we are not enemies. You said you don't want to hurt me. I'll take you at your word."

"Some would call that naïve."

"I'm well aware of that." She tilted her head. "Would you prefer to be bound?"

"Er…no thank you."

"Then lie down and rest while I talk to my friend. You look like you're about to pass out. You lost a lot of blood. And…worms." She walked out the door.

* * *

When Saber entered the shed, Irisviel sat up in the circle and stretched her arms. She looked better, though still a little cloudy-eyed. "How is he?"

Saber sat down nearby. "Still weak. Disoriented. But conscious. I'd say your healing was successful."

"I'm glad." She let out a soft sigh and folded her arms atop her knees. "What now?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She supposes she ought to be discussing this with her Master instead. But she wanted her friend's opinion first. Truthfully, Saber felt closer to Irisviel than Kiritsugu.

Irisviel waited, listening.

"Kariya Matou is fighting on behalf of another. There's a little girl…" She stopped, breathing in. It disturbed her deeply, to think of a child subjected to the horrors he'd described. "She's the prisoner of a cruel man. Kariya doesn't want the Grail for its own sake. He only wishes to save her. I think…there is more to gain from cooperating with him than from fighting him."

"You're saying we should make an alliance?"

"An alliance between two Masters is uncommon at this stage in the game, I realize. But it's not unheard of. If we can help him save the person he loves, then he may be willing to fight by our side."

Irisviel gazed at her steadily with her soft ruby eyes. "You think he's trustworthy?"

"It's hard to judge, at this point. He's…overwhelmed. Unbalanced. He seems to have a tumultuous relationship with his Servant. Having met Berserker, I don't find that surprising. Anyone would struggle to control that beast. As for Kariya himself…I don't know."

"What does your heart tell you?" Irisviel's gaze was intent, and Saber was struck by a strange impression—that she was talking to someone who was at once much younger and much older than herself.

Saber frowned, thinking. She tried not to rely on intuition, as a general rule. In war, one had to think tactically. But of course, there were moments when a fighter had to make decisions based on limited information. "I believe he's telling the truth," she said. "When I look into his eyes—eye, I mean—I don't see deception. I see desperation. If he leaves now—if he goes on fighting alone, in his current condition—he won't survive this war. I'm sure of that much. And I think he knows it, too. He has nothing to lose by cooperating with us, and everything to gain."

"If you trust him," she said, "then I trust him."

Saber allowed a tiny smile to soften her face. "That means a great deal to me." The smile faded quickly. "Kiritsugu is the one I really need to convince, though."

"He might be more open to the idea if he heard it from me, first. Let me try. I'll contact him tonight." She removed a boxy black cell phone from her coat pocket. "He said I can reach him through this, if I need to."

Saber nodded. "I'll watch over our guest in the meantime. Though…if he's going to be staying a while, I suppose I should get him something to wear."

"There should be clean clothes in the closet. I don't know how well they'll fit, but they're better than nothing."

"I'll take a look." She paused. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine." She smiled, but there was a pained tightness around the edges.

Worry tugged at Saber's heart. "Can I bring you anything? Water, or—"

Irisviel shook her head. "Rest is the only thing that will help me, now. Take care of Kariya-kun."

Japanese honorifics were rather complex in their implications, Saber had noticed; the language had manifested naturally in her mind as soon as she materialized, but she often missed some of the subtleties, or had to stop and think about them. _Kun _indicated friendship, or at least familiarity.

_Already, he's Kariya-kun?_

Well…they had saved his life, after all. That brought a certain level of familiarity.


	4. Chapter 4

When Kariya was eighteen years old, he left home.

He'd made the decision long ago—that as soon as he was able, he'd cut off all contact with the Matou family. And now, at last, the door of his cage was open. In the four years since his ill-fated attempt to kill Zouken, he had studied magecraft with the singular goal of removing the Crest Worms from his body and breaking Zouken's control over him. And now, at last, he'd done it. He was too strong to be kept here against his will any longer.

He threw several sets of clothes into a suitcase on his bed.

Zouken hovered in the doorway. "You really believe you can live a normal life?"

Kariya didn't look at him.

"You're a Matou. Even if you run away, you can't escape the blood flowing through your veins."

Kariya stuffed another shirt into the suitcase and snapped it shut. There was nothing else he wanted to take. He hauled the suitcase toward the door, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"You despise me. I'm quite aware of that. Still, I'm not the one you're running from. This is about that girl, isn't it? It's because she's marrying Tohsaka."

Kariya froze. He struggled to keep his breathing even. Zouken had always been good at ferreting out the weak spots in his psyche and pressing on them with ruthless precision. "Don't be absurd," he said. "Aoi-san is a friend of mine. That's all. I'm glad that she's found someone."

"Are you forgetting? The worms allowed me to sense your emotions. It's nothing as precise as mind-reading, but I could feel when you were in pain, when you were…excited." He chuckled. "Libido stirs them into a frenzy. They feed on it."

Kariya clenched his teeth. Of course Zouken had been spying on him. "You old pervert."

"Well. It's not as if I'm criticizing your taste. The girl is excellent breeding stock, after all."

"Shut up." His fingers tightened on the handle of his suitcase.

"You think you're doing something noble by relinquishing her to another man? By respecting her decision? Don't be stupid. You're just weak."

"I told you, this has nothing to do with Aoi-san."

It didn't matter what he felt about her. Even if she felt the same way—which she didn't—he would never drag her into the nightmarish world of the Matou family. _She's happy, _he told himself. _That's all that matters. _If Kariya stuck around, he would only get in the way. There was nothing keeping him here.

He lugged his suitcase through the doorway, brushing past Zouken and into the hall.

"You know," Zouken said, "if I were you, I would just rape her and get it out of my system."

Kariya's body moved before he could stop it. He whirled around, fist cocked. It slammed into Zouken's jaw, knocking his head to one side.

Zouken wiped the blood from his lips and smirked. "You're such a predictable creature, Kariya. So easily riled. I must confess, I've always found it entertaining."

Kariya glared at him, breathing hard. "I'm not you, you monster. I would _never—"_

"It was a joke. A joke." He waved a hand dismissively. "The Tohsakas are our valuable allies. It wouldn't do to alienate them, would it? And Aoi-san is Tokiomi Tohsaka's future wife, after all."

Kariya turned away, exhaling. He chided himself for letting the old man get under his skin. By now, he should know better. "If you ever hurt her, I'll kill you." He lugged his suitcase down the hallway.

"Kariya…if you leave now, don't bother coming back. I don't have any use for a failure and a traitor."

Kariya stopped. Just for a heartbeat or two, he felt fear. He had never lived anywhere else. In the outside world, he would be completely alone.

But anything was better than this.

"Goodbye, Father," he said.

As he neared the front door, he noticed Byakuya hovering nearby, in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest as he glowered. "If you ever decide to leave this nightmare and join me in the real world, you're welcome to," Kariya said.

Byakuya snorted. "Real world? A world of sheep?" He shook his head. "It's the mundane world that's false, Kariya. If you want to run off and play make-believe, that's your business, but don't expect me to help you when you change your mind." He gave Kariya a thin, hard smile. "With you gone, _I'll _be the heir. It should've been me to begin with. But you were always his favorite."

"I assure you, being his plaything wasn't much fun. You're lucky that he left you alone."

"I would have endured it. I would endure anything, if it meant upholding the Matou family's lineage. You're a disgrace."

Kariya opened his mouth, then closed it. There was no point in arguing with him. His older brother had made it clear that he despised Kariya, and nothing was going to change that.

Once—when they were very small—Byakuya had been kind to him. But those memories were so far away now, they felt like another life.

He walked out of the darkness, into the sunlight.

Zouken's voice echoed in his head: _You can't escape yourself, Kariya._

But he would disprove those words. He would sever all ties with the realm of mages. He'd forge a new path for himself, and he wouldn't look back. The nightmare was over; he was waking up.

He climbed into the waiting car and shut the door. As the driver pulled away from the looming Matou mansion, Kariya allowed himself a small breath of relief.

* * *

He went overseas, to a foreign city, far from everything and everyone he knew. He entered non-magical society with a small amount of money to his name, enough for a down payment on a tiny one-bedroom apartment.

He worked mostly as a freelance writer and translator. Spells involved working with languages, which he'd always been good at; writing had seemed the most natural vocation. But the competition was fierce, and there was never enough work to go around. Sending out resumes felt like an exercise in futility. There was no way to explain the gaps in his employment history. He couldn't exactly tell people that he was a failed mage who'd turned his back on the world of magic.

He did odd jobs when he could get them, ate frozen meals and spent most nights alone watching TV. There were always credit card bills that needed paying, and never enough to pay them. He bought a goldfish to help keep him company. The goldfish died a week later.

He kept reminding himself that this was better than where he'd come from. Better than spending his nights in the worm pit. Better than his father's constant torrent of physical and mental abuse.

He tried dating, browsing online personals. But getting close to people was difficult when there was so much you couldn't talk about. He had two brief relationships, both of which petered out within six months, after which he stopped dating entirely. There didn't seem to be any point.

He was, he realized, absurdly inexperienced for a man his age. At one low point, he hired a sex worker who looked vaguely like Aoi, just so he wouldn't have to spend the night alone, and then—unable to go through with it—he'd stammered out a rush of apologies, pushing the money into her hands, and sent her away.

Zouken's voice sneered in his head: _Is this the life you wanted, Kariya?_

It didn't matter. He was free.

He started drinking too much, taking too many sleeping pills to help him get through the night.

He was slowly dying of loneliness; he knew that. And when he received a call from Aoi-san, telling him she'd had her first child, Kariya felt a tug deep in the center of his being. He'd vowed not to return, not for any reason. But now he felt himself pulled back toward that world, the world he thought he'd left behind.

Not to Zouken. God, no. But a visit to Aoi and Tokiomi wouldn't hurt…would it?

"You're probably busy, I realize," Aoi said. Her soft, warm voice was exactly as he remembered. "By now, I'm sure you have a whole new life. But…it's been so long. And I've been thinking of the way you, me and Tokiomi used to play together as children. It was always the three of us."

"I remember," he whispered. He'd stayed out with them for hours, long into the evening, when the sky grew soft with stars. He'd never wanted to go home. Zouken had tolerated it because the Tohsakas were allies; a friendship with Tokiomi was politically advantageous. And even back then, Aoi had been attached to Tokiomi at the hip.

Even as they grew older, as Tokiomi grew more arrogant and pushy and Kariya had begun to wish he could be alone with Aoi…even as he began to fantasize, to blush and stutter whenever she looked at him, to ache with longing for a love he could never have, to feel the dull burn of envy whenever Tokiomi took her hand in his…even then, the time he spent with them had been his anchor to sanity.

How many dozens of love letters had he written and then burned?

"It doesn't feel right without you here," Aoi said. Her voice felt so close, as though she were standing next to him, speaking into his ear. "You're my best friend. You know that, don't you, Kariya?"

He closed his eyes, squeezing back tears. She'd used his name, naked of honorifics. She hadn't done that in years.

"Kariya?"

"I…I'll be there tomorrow. Aoi-san."

He took an overnight flight to the next city, then drove a rented car to the Tohsaka house, which he hadn't set foot in for years. Aoi placed Rin into his arms to hold for the first time. "Rin-chan," Aoi said, "meet your Uncle Kariya."

The baby smiled and let out a happy squeal. She reached for his face with tiny, chubby hands, patting his cheeks.

Aoi laughed softly. "See? She loves you already."

Kariya smiled at the little girl, a lump in his throat. "Pleased to meet you, Rin-chan."

* * *

Sakura came two years later. She was premature. So tiny, so fragile, it was hard to believe she was real.

"She'll be a powerful mage," Tokiomi said when he first laid eyes on her. "I can feel it."

To Tokiomi, his children were part of his legacy, first and foremost. He talked only about their potential, their future as mages.

But to Kariya, they were children. Innocent, precious. Worthy of protection. Aoi-san felt the same way; he saw it in her soft smile as she gazed down at baby Sakura.

_Aoi…if you knew..._

As the girls grew older, Kariya returned again and again. Tokiomi was usually busy, so most of the time, it was just the four of them. They all played together in the park, Aoi-san reading a book on her favorite bench, occasionally looking up and watching fondly as Kariya carried Sakura around on his shoulders or chased a laughing, boisterous Rin around in a game of tag.

Those were, without question, the happiest days of his life. And without Tokiomi there, it was easy to slip into the illusion that this was _his _life. That at the end of the day, they would all go home together and have dinner, and once the girls were sleeping soundly, Kariya and Aoi would retire to the bedroom and make love…quietly, so as not to wake them.

He knew it was just a fantasy. It would never happen. All he had were those brief windows of time—a few days of happiness before returning to his empty apartment in a foreign city.

But it was enough.

* * *

"Kariya…" Aoi's voice, quiet and warm, broke through the hazy darkness. Soft hands stroked his ravaged face, his whitened hair. She smiled at him, and in that smile he saw forgiveness and tender acceptance.

"Aoi-san…"

"Please. Just Aoi." She rested her forehead against his. "You saved my daughter. Sakura is safe, because of you. Now we can all be together, just like you said." Her lips pressed against his. He smelled the sweetness of her breath, vanilla and apples.

_This isn't real._

The thought was cold and clear. Undeniable. Aoi would never kiss him like this.

Cool, soft fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats and began tugging them off. A soft groan escaped his throat. Yes, please…

_Not real. _

Kariya pushed away the image of her face, the warmth of her lips against his. It hurt too much, knowing it was an illusion. He clawed his way toward consciousness, and the last, fleeting sweetness of the dream dissolved.

Yet the hands remained, tugging off his sweatpants. They didn't come easily; they clung to his skin, glued there by dried blood.

What was happening? Panic shot through his nerves. He lashed out, flailing with his one good arm. A hand caught his wrist. "Easy," a woman's voice said.

Memories flooded back. He opened his eye a crack; a blurry silhouette hovered over him. Honey-gold hair. Green eyes. "Saber," he croaked. "What—why are you—?"

"Taking off your pants? I thought I should check to make sure you don't have any additional injuries that need bandaging. And I brought you clean clothes. I tried to wake you, but you were sleeping so soundly. I decided to just…" Her gaze strayed lower, then flicked away. A faint, pink flush rose into her cheeks. He looked down and—to his horror—saw an erection tenting the front of his boxers.

A small, strangled sound escaped his throat. He sat bolt upright and covered the bulge with both hands. As though that made any difference. "I'm sorry. I—I was dreaming, and…"

"It's quite all right, Kariya-kun. I'm the one who should apologize. I overstepped my bounds." She stood. "Your clothes are there." She nodded toward the small pile next to his futon. "I'll give you some time to get dressed."

"Thank you." He sat, hunched over, eyes downcast as she retreated into the other room.

He closed his eye, cheeks burning. God, he thought. Could this situation possibly get any more embarrassing?

Insects buzzed outside the window, distracting him. He couldn't see them through the curtains, but he could sense their desire to get inside.

Adult, winged Crest Worms—ones hatched from his own flesh. They were, in some twisted way, his children. He thought he'd lost them all in his battle against Tokiomi. He remembered the sight of their bodies shriveling and blackening in the fire, turning to ash. It seemed there were a few left, after all.

Strange, to feel relief at that knowledge. He'd gotten attached to them during his time on the street. They fed on his mana, and they helped him in exchange. _Stay there, for now, _he thought. _I haven't forgotten about you._

He focused on taking in his surroundings. Last night, he'd been too disoriented to pay much attention to them. Morning sunlight filtered in through the curtains, and birds sang outside. From what little he could see through the window, the house was in a wooded area. His gaze settled on the soft gray sweatshirt and sweatpants next to him. His old sweats were still bunched up around his knees.

Well, he probably _should _change. He'd been living on the streets for weeks; the only bathing he got was when it rained. He could only imagine how he must stink. His own sense of smell was nearly gone. Maybe the worms had gotten to his olfactory bulb.

It took him almost five minutes to dress himself, and every pained movement was a reminder of how much his physical condition had deteriorated. Now that the all-consuming pain of the worms had ebbed, he was aware of smaller pains—damaged nerves, torn muscles, skin that had split open and congealed into half-healed scars.

He finished sliding into the fresh clothes. His hoodie lay nearby. It was dirty, but he pulled it on over the clean shirt and zipped it up. He felt more secure with it on. If he tugged the hood forward, it covered the worst of his facial scars. "I'm ready," he called.

Saber returned and sat down across from him once more. She still looked a little flustered; she avoided meeting his gaze directly, and the light flush hadn't left her cheeks. But her tone was all business. "Matou-san…"

"Kariya," he said. "Please." He despised his family name.

"Kariya-san. I may be able to help you save Sakura."

The words hit him like a lightning bolt. Kariya's eye widened. For a moment, he just stared. "You would help me? But…why?"

"Because it seems that an alliance between the two of us—or rather, between you and my Master—could be advantageous."

Kariya's hands trembled.

Ever since this war started, he had been fighting alone. That was how it had to be. The Grail War was a brutal free-for-all. The idea that he could talk to the other participants outside the context of battle had never even occurred to him. The notion that one of them might try to _help _him was outlandish. There was only one Grail, only one winner. What could the participants have to gain by cooperating? And yet here he was.

"If I help you rescue the girl, would you be willing to pledge your Servant's sword to my Master?" Saber asked.

And there was the catch. Still…

"You think he would be open to working with someone like me?" Kariya asked.

"That depends. Your Servant is a bit...unpredictable. How well can you control him?"

No point in lying. The truth would come out sooner or later. "It's like trying to ride a wild horse without a saddle or bridle. But I still have all my Command Seals." He held up his hand.

Saber nodded. "That's certainly worth something. Of course, it would be better if we could communicate freely with him." A pause. "Is he there now?"

"He's always there. Listening. I can feel him in my head. But he doesn't speak to me very often, and when he does, it's…not very logical. Berserker is under a madness enchantment. It makes him stronger, but…well, you've seen the effects. I can keep him suppressed, but it takes an effort."

"Is there any way to remove the enchantment?"

"Not that I know of."

"That will make things more difficult. But it might be something we can work around."

Kariya stared into space, thinking. For the first time in weeks, he _could _think. The healing had blasted the fog from his head. He wondered how long it would be before the haze of madness closed in on him once again. Not long, probably. But for now, at least, his mind was working.

What was the best course of action?

When he'd first gained control of Berserker, he'd thought about simply turning his Servant against Zouken, cutting down the old bastard where he stood, then fleeing into the night with Sakura in his arms. He had come so close.

Zouken had smiled at him, a knowing little smile, as though he could see Kariya's thoughts playing out. "Care to try your luck?"

Kariya hadn't. Too risky. Zouken was a wily old snake; he'd surely planned for the possibility that Kariya might try to kill him. And if he failed this time, Zouken wouldn't punish _him _for his disobedience. No. He would take it out on Sakura. The Crest Worms implanted inside her meant that Zouken could inflict pain—or kill her—at any time of his choosing. Better to simply win the Grail and make the trade, as he'd planned. Or so he'd thought at the time.

But things had changed since then. He was more desperate. He didn't have much time left. He no longer had much hope that he could win this alone. And even if by some miracle he delivered the Grail, there was no guarantee Zouken would hold up his end of the bargain. With Kariya dead, there would be no one to stop that monster from keeping both the Grail _and _Sakura.

No. There was only one way to ensure Sakura's safety. Zouken had to die.

Kariya couldn't kill him. Not alone. Not with Sakura as a hostage. But if he had allies, maybe…

"When was the last time you ate?" Saber asked, pulling his mind back to the present.

He had to think about that for a moment. "I don't know. A few days ago?" His good eye flicked toward her, then away. "I'm not sure I'm capable of eating, anymore." The last few times he'd tried to consume anything other than water, he'd thrown it up, along with a healthy portion of blood and worms. His digestive system was likely damaged beyond repair.

"You're seriously underweight," she said. "And dehydrated."

"Probably," he muttered.

"Wait there."

She walked into the other room, leaving Kariya sitting up on his futon, staring after her in puzzlement.

* * *

The house was very old, but there were a few modern conveniences in the kitchen—a gas stove, for one. Saber opened a can of soup, poured it into a sauce-pot, and heated it over the flame.

Strange, how natural those actions felt to her, even though she'd never operated a can opener or a stove before. Servants automatically absorbed information about whatever time and place they were summoned to. It felt, almost, as though here head were filled with memories from another person's life. She doubted she'd be able to cook a gourmet meal, but she could manage simple tasks.

As she stirred the soup with a wooden ladle, it occurred to her that she had left Kariya alone and unguarded...again. This was a gamble, to put it lightly.

But then, she had taken a gamble just by bringing him here. On some level, she had already made the decision—foolhardy or not—to trust him. At least for now.

He might be lying about the girl. About everything. But she didn't think so. The pain and desperation she'd seen in his expression had been real enough. And if everything he'd said was true…

Focus, she thought. One thing at a time.

She found some bread, as well. Old, but still within its expiration date, thanks to the dubious wonder of modern preservatives. In the cupboard was a jar of honey. She put two pieces of bread on a plate and slathered them with the gooey amber liquid. Her head was filled with peculiar modern words like _glucose _and _blood sugar, _and the conviction that he needed those things for quick energy, along with the protein from the soup. If he truly hadn't eaten anything for several days, no wonder he was weak and disoriented.

Astonishing, how luxuries like honey were so cheap and plentiful in this society. She squeezed a bit of it onto her finger and licked it off. Even as a king living in the distant past, she had enjoyed honey only on a rare handful of occasions. She closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness.

* * *

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Kariya's head jerked up. Saber walked into the room carrying a plate and a steaming bowl with a spoon. "Here." She placed the bowl into his hands.

"Chicken noodle soup?"

"The can claims it has essential vitamins and minerals."

A part of him wanted to reject it. He remembered the violent, painful fits of vomiting and dry-heaving the last time he'd tried to eat.

But the soup smelled good, and in the end, he was too hungry to resist. He took a tentative sip.

There was no nausea. No pain. His stomach awoke with a gurgle and clamored for more. He spooned the noodles into his mouth and slurped them down, trying to ignore their resemblance to worms. Before he knew it, the soup was gone.

"The bread, too." She pushed the plate toward him. Two slices of white bread slathered in honey.

"I don't know. Maybe I should wait. See if..."

"Eat," she said firmly.

He ate.

_Sweet. _When was the last time he'd had something sweet?

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better." He was surprised to find that he meant it. His stomach was warm and full. His body had accepted food and was busy absorbing it, giving him strength.

The insects kept tap-tapping against the glass.

"They really want to come in," Saber said. "Are they yours?"

"Yes."

She walked over and opened the window. A small handful of insects buzzed over and settled near Kariya. One landed on his shoulder, where it grew placid and still. They were relatively small specimens, no longer than a finger, but he could see their hooked stingers gleaming. Saber eyed them with a hint of unease.

"They seem to like being close to you," she remarked.

"They want to be near the food-source, I suppose."

Saber held out a hand. One insect flitted over and landed in her palm. "Their wings are actually rather pretty, when you look closely. There are glints of iridescent green."

"I…hadn't noticed."

The insect buzzed back to Kariya's side. She looked up. "So, Kariya-san. What do you say? Irisviel has already spoken to her husband. My Master. He's willing to have an audience with you."

Kariya knew he should hesitate. He had no idea what sort of person her Master was, or what his plans were. But he couldn't pass up this chance. "If you can save Sakura, I'll do anything you ask of me."

She gave a short nod. With a _fwoosh, _she materialized her armor around her and drew her sword. She offered him a hand.

Puzzled, he took it. She helped him to his feet. Then she went down on one knee, still holding his hand in hers, and bowed her head.

He blinked. "Wh-what—"

She held the sword to her chest. "I swear on the code of chivalry and on my honor as a knight that I will do everything in my power to save Sakura from her fate."

"Saber…" For a moment, he could barely breathe. Was this really happening? It all felt too good to be true. He was afraid to believe, afraid to let down his guard. "This means more to me than I can say. But I haven't even talked to your Master yet. What if he doesn't agree to this?"

She stood and sheathed her sword. "I believe that he will. According to Irisviel, he's a deeply idealistic person, despite how he might appear. And I trust her judgment. But regardless, you have my word that I will do whatever I can. My soul is stirred by the child's plight. And yours."

It took him a moment to find his voice. When he did, it emerged as a hoarse whisper. "Thank you."

"There is no need for thanks."

Kariya looked into her clear green eyes, her unblemished face. She was young and healthy, strong and beautiful. Next to her, he should've felt more deformed and freakish than ever. Yet she looked at him with no trace of judgment or disgust. She was the real thing: a knight in shining armor. This, he thought, was what a Heroic Spirit was supposed to be. What Berserker might have been, if the madness enchantment hadn't twisted him beyond recognition. Who had she been, in life?

"May I ask you something, Saber?"

"Go ahead."

"How old are you? Or, I mean…"

"You mean how old was I. When I last breathed as a human being."

"Yes."

"My body stopped aging at age fifteen, due to a certain magic item. But I was in my mid-twenties when I died. Despite my appearance, I'm not a child."

She was only a bit younger than Kariya himself. And yet, despite her self-assurance and quiet, no-nonsense competence, there _was _something childlike about her. Something untouched and clean. He couldn't figure her out. It seemed, at times, as though she were acting out a role—like a knight who'd stepped out of the pages of a storybook. More archetype than reality. And yet, if it _was _a role, it was one she believed in with every fiber of her being. Was she always so serious and committed? He tried to imagine her doing something ordinary—ordering food at a restaurant, singing karaoke, laughing at a funny movie. It was difficult.

He felt Berserker stirring under the surface of his mind once more, growling and pacing like a caged wolf. Dark rage bubbled in his heart, and whispers slithered through his head: _She's a self-righteous hypocrite, drunk on her own feelings of virtue. Don't let her fool you. _

Kariya frowned. When the mad Servant goaded him to kill Tokiomi, it had felt like an extension of Kariya's own feelings—as though Berserker's madness had inflamed the resentment festering in the dark corners of his own heart. But the anger toward Saber didn't come from inside him. It was entirely Berserker's.

_You hate her. Why?_

But Berserker simply retreated again, his presence coiling like an oil-black cat in the corner of Kariya's skull, watching him through narrowed red eyes.

_Fine. Don't say anything. _Kariya sighed.

"Kariya-san?" Saber asked.

"It's nothing."

He heard the creak of approaching footsteps and looked up. A pale, white-haired woman stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. She smiled. "You're looking much better."

Saber was at her side in an instant. She helped Irisviel across the room and pulled out a chair for her.

"Really, I'm fine now," the woman said. "There's no need to fuss."

Kariya stared into her ruby-red eyes. "Are you the one who healed me?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry for the pain. But it was necessary to save your life."

"It's fine. I barely remember now. Thank you."

She smiled warmly. "I was happy to help." The smile faded, and her expression turned serious. "Saber told me a little about your situation. I spoke to my husband. He's been staying in a hotel nearby. He asked us to come to him. Are you feeling well enough to move?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. He would drag himself there, if necessary. He pushed himself to his feet…or tried. He stumbled, his mostly-useless left leg crumpling.

Saber caught him with one arm and propped him up. He leaned against her, his face burning with shame. "I _can _walk," he muttered. "Really. I just need to get my balance. It's just this leg…" He lay a hand against his left thigh. "The other's all right. If…if I could get a cane, or something…"

"We'll buy one on the way," Saber said. Off-handedly, she added, "And it couldn't hurt to get a new—what do you call this?—hoodie."

He looked down. In addition to being ragged and bloodstained, his old hoodie also boasted a few dried, dead worms caked onto its surface…a reminder of last night's healing, when the things had poured out of him in a glistening, wriggling white cascade.

Disgusting. A sickly, pathetic mess…

_Stop it. _Self-pity wouldn't help him now. He was going to see Saber's Master—to propose an alliance. He needed to stitch together the ragged scraps of himself and try to appear as a normal, sane, hygienic person. Sakura's fate hung in the balance. "Maybe a shower, first," he muttered.

* * *

Kariya leaned against the shower wall, feeling the hot spray beat against his back. The remaining worms didn't like it. They squirmed uneasily inside him. "Relax," he muttered. "It's just water and soap. It won't kill you."

He washed himself slowly, trying not to look too closely at himself. Even before having the Crest Worms implanted, he'd never really liked his own body. He'd always been self-conscious about his thinness and his overly-pale skin.

Now, all his flaws were magnified, cast into sharp relief. He was so scrawny his ribs stood out, and what little muscle tone he'd had had atrophied away. In the small mirror on the shower-wall, he could see the knobby mountain range of his spine.

The idea of going out in public made him flinch. Since leaving the Matou house, he'd mostly stuck to alleys and side-streets, slinking around in the shadows like a possum. The few times he'd been seen, he'd probably been mistaken for a homeless addict. Would cleaning up and buying new clothes even make a difference?

He pushed the thoughts away, grabbed the bar of soap with his good arm, and did his best to scrub off the crusted remains of blood and dirt on his skin.

_They will reject us, _Berserker whispered in his head. _They will betray us, use us and cast us aside. You should just kill them._

"We discussed this already. I'm not killing anyone. Now stop it."

_I am trying to protect you. No one understands us, Kariya. How could they? How could anyone know what you have endured?  
_

He froze, his breath catching in sudden pain.

_We are the broken. The discarded. You are a half-mad cripple, a failure, a traitor—disgraced son of a disgraced family, creature of the shadows—_

"You're no work of art, yourself."

_Yes. We are alike. We are alone together.  
_

"We're not alone. Saber and Irisviel helped me."

_The girl saved you as a child would pluck a drowning, lice-infested stray kitten from a sewer. She will tire of us.  
_

"You're unusually chatty today." He leaned against the shower stall wall, watching the water run down his scrawny, scarred thighs and circle the drain, tinged pink with sluiced-off blood. "What is it about Saber? Did something happen between the two of you?"

A pause. _I don't remember. I don't even know who I was. _

Kariya leaned his head against the tiles and closed his eye. Of course. He'd taken Berserker's memories away, when he locked him in a cage of madness. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

_Sorry? _Berserker sounded baffled, a little uneasy. _For what?_

"Well, it's not as if you had a choice in any of this." He shut off the water and began slowly, stiffly toweling himself off. "I'm sure it's not pleasant for you either. Still...I won't let you hurt her."

Berserker didn't respond.

Kariya got dressed. His movements came easier, now; he took a moment to appreciate the lack of burning pain in his gut and head.

He was under no illusions that this relief was permanent. Sooner or later, the remaining Crest Worms would multiply and consume him. But the healing had bought him time. How much? An extra month? Two months?

It was enough. It would have to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Kariya and Saber left the cottage in a sleek silver car, Saber behind the wheel. Irisviel offered to go with them, but Saber firmly insisted that she stay behind and rest.

As they drove down the faded highway, through thick forests, Kariya looked at Saber from the corner of his eye. "I realize it's none of my business, but…Irisviel. Is she all right?"

"She's been growing weaker for a few days, now," Saber said. "It has something to do with her being an Einzbern homunculus. She has to spend a lot of time resting in her magic circle, these days. I…there's a lot I don't know. But I believe homunculi are not constructed to live very long, and she's simply near the end of her natural lifespan."

"I see," Kariya said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Irisviel seems at peace with it. Though it's possible she's concealing her fear for my sake, and for her husband's. I don't really know what to do for her. But in any case, the Grail War is almost over. I won't be in this world much longer myself."

"I guess that's true." He hesitated. "What is it like? I mean, when you're…not in this world?"

"If you're asking what it's like to be dead, I'm afraid I'm not sure how to answer that. It's like…well, imagine trying to describe to someone what it felt like to be in your mother's womb."

"No heaven, then? Or Nirvana, or whatever?"

"If there's an afterlife, I've never seen it. Perhaps Heroic Spirits aren't granted an afterlife. Sometimes I remember fragments, bits and pieces from my old life, as though I'm returning there again and again…there's a battlefield…" Her eyes lost focus. She shook her head. "In any case, even if I die in this war, there's a possibility I'll be summoned back in the next one, or the one after that. So it's not really the same."

"Still, it must be difficult for you, too. Being summoned over and over to fight on a stranger's behalf. Not having any choice."

"I'm used to it, I suppose. Even in life, my role was carved out for me from infancy. I've never had a choice about much of anything."

She said it with no trace of self-pity or sadness. Just stating a fact. He felt a pang of sadness, all the same. He found himself thinking again about Berserker—what he thought about being summoned here to fight on Kariya's behalf. If he thought anything about it.

They took a long, winding highway into Fuyuki City. Buildings glided past the window; pedestrians hurried up and down the sidewalks, toting paper shopping bags. The bustle of honking car horns and chattering human voices filled the air.

Kariya hunched down in the passenger-side seat, pulling his hood down over his face.

Saber pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket—one of those big box retail chains—and glanced at him. "Are you ready?"

He gulped. When was the last time he'd set foot in a store? Bright lights. Crowded aisles. People staring at him in confused revulsion, whispering, shrinking away…

His unease must have shown. "You can wait here if you like," she said. "I won't be long."

He shook his head. "I'm fine." He braced himself. He'd lived through a year of feeling Crest Worms eat away at his insides, had survived being set on fire and plummeting off a bridge. He could handle a trip to the supermarket. This was nothing.

So why was he shaking?

Saber circled around to the passenger-side door, opened it, and offered him her arm. He took it, and they made their way across the parking lot. The way he was hobbling, people would probably mistake him for her grandfather. If he just kept his face hidden…

The automatic doors whisked open, and they stepped into the blinding glare of the fluorescent lights. Kariya squinted, shielding his face with one arm. The pit of his stomach squirmed. Worms or anxiety, he wasn't sure.

"The clothing section is over here," Saber said, pointing.

"Right." He found a rack of hoodies, ruffled absently through them, and selected a dark blue one—similar to what he was wearing, but much cleaner. "This'll do." He looked up, and was surprised to see that Saber was already holding a black metal cane…and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

"You mentioned difficulty in keeping food down," she said. "This pink substance is supposed to be good for stomach problems."

"Er. Thank you."

"The stores of this era really _do _have everything," she said. "It's quite remarkable. You can buy state of the art computers and canned spaghetti in the same place." She stared at the Pepto-Bismol in her hand. "It's a world of plenty…luxuries beyond imagining, compared to where I'm from. And yet the people here, on the whole, don't seem any happier than the ones from my own time."

"We're just used to it, I guess. People can get used to almost anything."

It worked in reverse too; hell could seem perfectly mundane, if you'd been there long enough. As a child, it had taken Kariya a while to realize just how abnormal and horrifying his upbringing was. He'd had nothing to compare it to. Sure, he'd been scared and in pain most of the time, but he just assumed on some level that it was like that for everyone.

He shuddered, gripping his arm.

"Kariya-kun? Are you—?"

"Fine. Let's—let's just go."

Saber tossed the Pepto-Bismol and the cane into a nearby shopping cart and pushed it toward the registers.

He coughed, muffling it as best he could with one hand. If he started spewing blood and worms onto the shiny, tiled floor…better not to think of that.

Whispers flickered at the edges of his mind. He tensed. A group of teenagers huddled nearby, stealing glances at him.

"Looks like some kinda drug addict. What's up with his face?"

"Dude, try not to stare…I think those are burn scars."

"No way. I saw something _move _under his skin."

"Creepy. Does he have some kinda parasite?"

"What if he's contagious?"

"Gross…cover that shit up, man…"

Saber took a step toward them. They fell silent. "Do you have something to say?" she asked, loudly enough that several other customers stopped and looked at her.

The teenagers wilted under her glare. The way the anger radiated from her face, Kariya half-expected her to materialize her armor and draw her sword. But she just said, "Well?"

The teenagers scurried away.

Saber shook her head, frowning, and pushed the cart forward. Kariya followed, dragging his bad leg behind him, his face downcast. Why had he ever thought it was a good idea to expose himself to the public's eyes?

He felt sick. The breath whistled in his throat. _Damn it. _No. He was not going to have an anxiety attack in the middle of a supermarket because some random kids had made insulting comments about his appearance.

Kariya had stoically endured things that would drive most people mad. During his year of Worm Boot Camp, he'd never once given that sadistic bastard Zouken the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He'd wept only a few times—always alone in his cell, quietly.

He hadn't wanted Sakura to overhear him, either. He didn't want her to know how much it hurt. She had enough to deal with without blaming herself for his condition.

Why was _this _the thing that nearly pushed him over the edge? It was stupid. Petty. But the lump in his throat refused to go away no matter how many times he swallowed.

Zouken would get a good laugh out of it. He could almost hear the old man's voice: _I didn't realize you were so vain, Kariya. Can't stand having your pretty face spoiled? Not much fun, is it, being a freak and a laughingstock? What does Aoi think of you now?_

Stop, he thought. Stop, stop.

He felt a warm hand on his arm, someone's breath against his cheek. "Kariya," Saber whispered, lips almost touching his ear. "Breathe."

He took a short, gulping breath. "I'm sorry," he murmured. His stupid, treacherous body wouldn't stop trembling. "It's—it's too bright here. Everyone can see me." He pulled his hood down around his face. He didn't dare look up. He felt like the entire store was staring at him.

Her hand remained firmly on his arm. "It doesn't matter what they think. They don't have the slightest idea what you've been through. Their opinions are worth less than nothing."

He managed a nod. He closed his eye and took a few breaths, drawing strength from her touch.

They purchased the items quickly and headed out to the parking lot. Kariya changed into the fresh hoodie and shoved the old, bloodstained one into a nearby garbage can. Saber handed him the cane. "Here."

He gripped it, leaning against it as he limped forward. It helped.

They got into the car. Saber didn't start the engine, though. She sat, gripping the steering wheel tightly in both hands. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Saber? Are you…angry?"

"I am. I'm angry at them."

"Don't be. It's like you said. They aren't worth it. Anyway…they were just children."

"Old enough to know better." She shook her head. "I despise that sort of shallowness. That senseless cruelty."

A strange feeling washed over him. He had come to expect revulsion and horror from others; it hurt, but he couldn't blame them. His appearance was objectively monstrous. He hadn't expected her to get so furious on his behalf. Hadn't expected her to defend him. He could still feel the warmth of her hand on his arm. A simple gesture, but one that said everything.

He gave her an awkward, crooked smile. "I'm all right now. Honest. I just…needed a moment to get myself under control. Thank you, Saber." He paused. "It feels strange, calling you by the name of your class. I mean, I understand why you can't tell me your identity. It's not like I know Berserker's real name either."

"He hasn't told you?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"He doesn't know, himself. His summoning was…unorthodox, so his memories are foggy. Even for the Berserker class, he's an unusual one."

_You're hardly a typical Master, yourself, _Berserker interjected. Kariya gave a start.

"Kariya-kun?"

"I'm fine." And then, to Berserker: "You know, if you spoke to me more often, it would be less alarming when you _did _speak."

Saber frowned. "What did he say?"

"Just that I'm not exactly normal, either."

"It seems he _can _communicate when he wants to." She paused, as though debating something with herself, then said, "Call me Artoria. Artoria Pendragon is my true name."

"Wait. Pendragon? You don't mean…" His eye widened. "King Arthur? _That _King Arthur?"

"That's me, yes."

"The legends got a few details wrong."

"So I've heard. I suppose it isn't surprising that history rewrote me as male. It was easier for people to believe."

Kariya felt a low rumble in his head. A growl vibrated through his bones. He tensed.

_Arrrr…thur…_

Kariya sucked the breath in through his teeth. _You _do _know her. Don't you?_

_Arrrrthurrr…_

Kariya clutched at his hand, the one with the Command Seals. Would he have to use one to stop Berserker, now? Would he materialize and attack? "Berserker," Kariya whispered. "Calm down." After a moment, he added, "Please."

Berserker grated out a low groan. Then he spoke again, in a quiet, almost human-sounding voice: _It hurt. I remember how much it hurt._

_What did?_

But Berserker didn't respond.

"Kariya-kun?" Saber said, stirring him from his daze.

"He's stopped talking. He…seemed to recognize your name. But I don't think he remembers anything specific."

"Hm."

She frowned, started the engine and pulled out of the lot.

Kariya's head spun, both at the realization of who she was and the trust she'd placed in him by revealing her identity. King Arthur was a woman. A beautiful woman. And kind. Honorable. _Good_, in a way that was both larger than life and entirely simple and human. Good in a way that would compel her to fight vast armies to secure the rights of her people, and also to hold his arm in the supermarket when he was on the verge of panicking.

"I guess sometimes the fairytales do get it right," he said.

"How do you mean?"

He watched the blur of lights float past outside the window. "When I was little, I wanted to be a knight. I had this book of old English fairy tales and legends. It was my favorite thing in the world. There was a story in there about King Arthur. I mean, it was a book for kids, so it probably wasn't very close to the truth, or even to the original legend. But still. I must have read it a hundred times. And, setting aside the obvious…you're pretty much exactly how I always imagined him."

She looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"My childhood was…not very happy. I needed something like that, I suppose. Something simple. Something about courage and human decency. Sometimes I'd fall asleep hugging the book like a stuffed toy. Silly, I know." He gave her an awkward smile.

Artoria said nothing. Her expression was unreadable. Kariya felt a flush creeping up his neck, into his face. The worms stirred under his skin.

Why had he told her all that? They were trying to win a war, and here he was, blathering about his embarrassing childhood memories to a woman he barely knew.

He kept his mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

* * *

The hotel was unremarkable, neither particularly upscale nor particularly rundown. They entered a clean, beige lobby with a fake plant in the corner. "Can you call room 502, please?" Saber asked the receptionist.

He checked a notepad and said, "He's expecting you. You can go right up." The man glanced at Kariya and looked quickly away.

As they took the elevator to the fifth floor, Kariya asked, "What sort of man is he, your Master?" He supposed they should've had this conversation already.

Saber hesitated a few seconds before replying, "He gives the impression of being cold and ruthless, and some of his methods are…ethically questionable. But he's a deeply idealistic person. And he loves his wife and daughter."

"They have a daughter?"

"Yes. Ilyasviel. She's eight."

About Rin's age.

"His name is Kiritsugu Emiya," she said.

The name rang a bell. He had to think for a moment. Then it clicked. "The mage-killer? The mercenary?"

"That's him."

The elevator dinged softly, and the doors opened. As they walked down the narrow, carpeted hall, Kariya realized his heart was pounding. From what little he knew of Kiritsugu Emiya, the man always worked alone. And Kariya had to convince him that it was in their mutual best interest to help each other. If he failed, what then? Would Kiritsugu try to kill him on the spot? Saber was on his side, but how much influence did she have over him?

He stopped, gripping his cane. "Saber…if we end up dueling, here…"

"He has agreed to a truce for now. If he doesn't think you're worth working with, you'll simply walk away. That's what he told Irisviel, anyway, when she spoke to him on the telephone."

Kariya was tempted to ask if Saber trusted her Master to keep his word. But if she said no, what then? He'd come this far. He wasn't going to turn back now.

Saber stopped in front of the door marked 502 and knocked. "It's us."

A brief pause. Then a click as the door unlocked. A deep voice said, "Come in." Saber took a step forward, and the voice said, "Not you. Wait outside. I want to speak to him alone. Master to Master."

Saber hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"You seem to think we can trust him. So what's the problem?"

Saber looked away. "Very well. I will wait in the hallway." Her gaze connected briefly with Kariya's. He felt her gloved hand on his arm, squeezing lightly, a quick pulse of reassurance. Then she released him and stood with her back to the wall, hands folded in front of her, like a guard on duty.

"Don't enter unless I call for you," Kiritsugu said.

"As you wish," Saber said.

Kariya entered, closing the door behind him.

Kiritsugu stood near the curtain-covered window, staring at him with an unreadable expression. His appearance was unremarkable—dark hair, dark eyes, medium build. "So. You're Berserker's Master."

"Yes."

"The past year hasn't been kind to you, it would seem."

Kariya gripped his cane, trying to stand straight. "The Matou family magic takes a toll on its user. You see the results before you."

"I take it that's why you severed ties with them."

"One of the reasons, yes."

"And yet they still chose you to fight in the Grail War?"

"I volunteered. I have my own reasons for fighting. I believe Irisviel-san filled you in on some of the details."

"She said you're fighting to save a child. Your niece?"

Kariya swallowed. "We're not blood-related, but…yes. Her name is Sakura."

"Hm." Kiritsugu lit a cigarette.

"Are you allowed to smoke in here?"

"No." He raised the cigarette to his lips and took a drag. "So, your objective is to win the Grail for Zouken, and he agreed to release the child in exchange."

"Yes."

"I have to ask—why not just kill the old bastard? Even if he's your father, there doesn't seem to be any love lost between the two of you."

"I've tried. He's not an easy man to kill. But if you can help me get rid of him, I'll gladly throw my Berserker's strength behind you in your efforts to win the Grail."

Kiritsugu exhaled a mouthful of smoke. "All right. Materialize your Servant, then."

Kariya tensed. "Wait. Here, now?"

"What's the problem? You can control him, can't you? Call Berserker to your side. I want to see what you're offering me."

Kariya inhaled slowly.

Berserker rarely materialized, except for battles, and when he did, he drained huge amounts of mana. Zouken had warned Kariya that keeping Berserker materialized for too long could actually kill him, if he wasn't careful.

But of course Kiritsugu wanted a demonstration. It was only reasonable. Kariya had expected this to happen at some point. Just not in a hotel room.

"Berserker," Kariya said. "Stand before me."

At first, there was nothing—nothing tangible, anyway. A shift in the air, a faint, barely audible humming. A dark, writhing spot, like a free-floating shadow, materialized in the center of the room, then expanded. _Fwoosh—_a rush of wind, a roar of flames, and the massive, armored form stood before him, a faceless behemoth surrounded by a churning black aura.

The pain began almost immediately—a sharp, stabbing pain in Kariya's chest, spreading outward through his whole body. Berserker sucked greedily at his mana, ripping it out of him through sheer force. Kariya clutched his chest, grimacing, but managed to stay on his feet.

Kiritsugu took a step back. Kariya had to admit, it was gratifying to see the flicker of fear in his impassive dark eyes. Then his expression closed off once again. "What is that black aura? None of the other Servants have that."

"I modified the incantation," Kariya said. "Just a bit."

Berserker let out a low, rumbling growl. Its armor vibrated, rattling. Slowly, it drew its sword. "KILL," rasped a deep voice.

Kariya tensed. "No," he said. "We aren't killing him. Put your sword away."

Berserker's head turned toward him, armor creaking. Another low rumble emerged from within the helmet. It made no move to attack, but neither did it sheath its sword. Its head turned toward Kiritsugu. "ENEMY," came the deep, distorted voice. It seemed to reverberate inside his skull, bypassing his ears.

"He's not our enemy," Kariya said, speaking slowly. "He's a friend."

"YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS."

Kariya gritted his teeth, trying to focus through the throbbing pain. "Berserker. Put away the sword."

The darkness seethed inside his head, tugging at his thoughts. Emotions stirred within him—rage. Resentment. Hatred. Tokiomi's face swam behind his eyes, smirking. Zouken's mocking laughter scraped at his brain like claws. He saw Aoi's face contorted with disgust as she shrank away from the sight of his ravaged face.

Berserker fed on those emotions. He fanned the flames, and they glowed brighter and sharper. He pulled memory after painful memory out of Kariya's brain, like bloody, razor-studded ropes. The back of Zouken's hand smacking into his flesh. Sakura lying dead-eyed and naked in a pit of bugs. The gray, empty years he'd spent living alone in his one-bedroom apartment, shunned. As though people could smell his cursed heritage on him. The voices of everyone who had ever bullied, mocked or rejected him echoed through his head, blending into a lunatic chorus.

Breathing hard, Kariya raised his eyes to Kiritsugu, who stared at him with narrowed eyes. _Distrust. Revulsion. _The same emotions he'd grown used to seeing on the faces of people around him.

"YOU ARE ALONE."

The darkness was closing in on Kariya, swallowing his mind.

Clear green eyes shone through the darkness. A hand holding his own. He focused on the memory of those green eyes, and the rage receded.

But Berserker showed no signs of calming. He paced like a caged tiger, his head turning back and forth, armor rattling, his aura filling the room like odorless smoke. He swung his sword, gouging a deep scar into the wall. Plaster-dust rained down. Berserker howled at him, an animal sound of frustrated fury.

Kariya's pulse raced. Would he have to burn up a Command Seal, just to prevent his Servant from murdering Kiritsugu? He held up his hand, an implicit threat. "I'm your Master," he said.

Berserker ignored him and swung his huge body toward Kiritsugu. He took a clanking step forward.

"Do I need to call Saber?" Kiritsugu asked. He was pale but surprisingly calm, given the eight-foot-tall monster looming over him.

Berserker raised its sword.

Damn it. "Berserker!" Kariya raised his hand. He'd never used a Command Seal before, but reaching for that power now felt as natural as moving his own body. "You will not harm this man! Nor his Servant, nor his wife, nor his child, nor any person connected to him! Now sheath your sword!" The Command Seal glowed, and then vanished.

Berserker froze, twitched. Its massive body quivered, then—slowly, jerkily—it sheathed its weapon…then threw back its head and screeched. The entire room vibrated. Kiritsugu stumbled, gripping the edge of the bed.

Berserker whirled toward Kariya. Armored hands closed around his throat and lifted him into the air. Kariya gagged, struggling as the metal fingers tightened around his throat. "Go," he rasped. He cut off the supply of mana, slowing it to a trickle, and Berserker's form dematerialized. Kariya dropped to the floor, coughing.

Kiritsugu exhaled a shaky breath and took a swig of his whiskey. "Well," he said. "You had to use a Command Seal just to prevent your Servant from killing me. That's not promising."

Kariya slowly picked himself up, trembling, and leaned on his cane. His breath wheezed in his throat. "I have two Command Seals left. And now Berserker is permanently forbidden from harming you or any of your allies."

"The broader the command, the less reliable its effects. You know that as well as I do. And Berserker is a mad dog. It's strong, but your control over it is tenuous, at best. What's more, judging by its effect on you, it has to burn through massive quantities of mana just to stay materialized, and your physical condition is…sub-optimal. Based on your current state, I'd say you're not planning to survive the Grail War anyway. Your methods—using magic that eats away at your flesh, imbuing your Servant with madness to boost its strength—show a reckless disregard for consequence, which suggests to me a dangerously unbalanced state of mind."

"I understand the risks," Kariya said. "I'm doing what I have to, to win."

Kiritsugu walked toward him. He leaned closer, until his face hovered mere inches from Kariya's. "If you think so little of your own life that you're willing to throw it away on a wild gamble, then why should I trust you?"

Kariya tensed. "You…you think I _want _this? You think I'd put myself through this if there was any other choice?"

"I think you're suicidal," Kiritsugu said. "I recognize that look in your eye. It's the look of a man staring into the barrel of his own gun, on the verge of pulling the trigger."

"It's the only way! The only way to save her!" He shouted the words into Kiritsugu's face.

Kiritsugu didn't flinch. "Yet you don't have a plan." He narrowed his eyes. "You think suffering and self-sacrifice is enough to save people? It doesn't work that way. You're letting your emotions control you. A man who can't think rationally is incapable of saving anyone." He straightened and turned away.

"You have a daughter," Kariya whispered.

Kiritsugu froze, but didn't turn toward him. "They told you about Ilya?" His tone was cold. Flat.

"If you love her, then you understand why I'm desperate. Why I would do anything—even destroy myself—to save Sakura."

Still, Kiritsugu didn't turn.

"Saber told me that you're a man with ideals."

"Saber hasn't known me for very long."

"Irisviel seems to feel the same."

"Children die every day, you know," Kiritsugu said. "All over the world. To save one…what does it accomplish? What does it change?"

Kariya suppressed the flash of anger inside him. He focused on breathing, tried to force his foggy, worm-addled mind to think. "It saves a life," he said. "A single, precious, irreplaceable life. _That's _what it accomplishes. People will go on dying, yes. And the world won't notice or care what happens to one girl. But for Sakura and her mother and sister, it will change everything. To lift one person out of hell…sometimes, it's all we can do. It's the meaning of being human."

Kiritsugu was silent.

"Saber and Irisviel came to my aid when they had no reason to. They saved me out of simple human goodness, even though they had every reason to see me as an enemy. Saber respects you, and Irisviel loves you. So I believe you're a good person. I believe that you care, even if you pretend otherwise. I'm appealing to your goodness, now. I'm begging you."

Kiritsugu placed the end of the cigarette between his lips. "A grand speech, coming from a man with a death wish."

Kariya didn't respond. Just waited.

For almost twenty seconds, Kiritsugu was silent.

At last, he gave a short nod, more to himself than Kariya. "All right," he said. "You want my help? Give me something in exchange."

"Tell me what you want, then."

"Kill Kirei Kotomine," Kiritsugu said.

_Kirei Kotomine. _Kariya racked his brain for details, but he didn't know much about the man, except that he worked for the Church and he was Assassin's Master. "Why Kirei?"

"Never mind the reasons."

"All right. If that's what it takes to earn your trust."

"Good." Kiritsugu pulled a rolled sheet of parchment from a drawer and unrolled it on the table.

"What is that?"

"A contract. A geis, specifically. Take all the time you want to read it."

Kariya picked up the parchment—the paper was ancient and soft, almost silky against his fingertips. The contract was straightforward enough: Kiritsugu would lend him Saber, as well as any additional resources he could spare, to aid him in saving Sakura. In return, Kariya (if he survived the rescue attempt) would use whatever remaining Command Seals he possessed to take out Kirei. Kiritsugu and Kariya were contractually forbidden from killing each other. And if by some chance Kariya won the Grail, he would relinquish it to Kiritsugu.

Kariya looked up. "Before I agree to this, I have to know…what are your plans for the Grail? My father wants it to gain immortality. Tokiomi is after the Root. Are you after something similar?"

"Hardly. I might know magic, but I don't consider myself a mage. My father was a mage. He was one of the most despicable people I've ever known…even if it took me a while to realize it. The Mage Association, the Church…I have nothing but contempt for all of them."

He and Kiritsugu, it seemed, had a lot more in common than Kariya had first thought. "I feel the same. But then, what is it you want?"

Kiritsugu met his gaze. "The world is full of Sakuras. I intend to save them all. Every child suffering at the hands of a monster. Every innocent person who's been victimized by the cruelty and greed of those in power."

"I…don't understand. How?"

"I don't know how," he said. "That's why I need the Grail."

Kariya hesitated. Kiritsugu was talking about remaking the world. Kariya didn't believe that even the Grail was capable of such a thing. Kiritsugu had accused him of being driven by his emotions, but if he was telling the truth about his goals, this man was even more of a blind idealist than Kariya.

Even so. In a sense, they wanted the same thing.

Kariya signed his name.

"Good," Kiritsugu said. "Now. I'll need all the info you can give me on the Matou mansion. The layout, the entrances and exits, any traps." He pulled a notepad on the drawer and placed it on the counter, along with a pen. "Draw me a map."

Kariya got to work, sketching the mansion from memory. It wasn't difficult. The house had haunted his dreams for years.

"This Zouken," Kiritsugu continued, "you said he's a difficult man to kill."

"He's barely human. I don't know exactly how old he is, but he's been alive for at least a few hundred years. I'm convinced he could survive having his heart ripped out. If he even has one."

"I take it ordinary methods won't work, then. Saber has an anti-fortress Noble Phantasm that could probably do it, but it burns through a tremendous amount of mana, and she just used it to destroy Caster. Besides…when she unleashes its full power the level of destruction is massive. It would level the entire mansion. Not ideal for a rescue mission."

"Leave Zouken to me," Kariya said. "If Saber can just retrieve Sakura while I keep Zouken occupied…"

"Is there anyone else in the Matou house that we'll have to contend with?"

"There's my brother, Byakuya, but he won't be much of a threat. He was born with only a weak talent for magic. And he's a coward. He'll probably hide as soon as we begin the attack."

"You don't have a cordial relationship with him, I take it."

"I went ten years without even speaking to him. He dislikes me because I was the chosen successor. Not that that was something I ever wanted." Kariya had seen Byakuya only a few times during his recent training, and his older brother had taken the opportunity to gloat over his pitiful condition.

"Zouken is the main threat," Kariya said. "Him and his pets. Those damned worms are everywhere."

"Saber can handle a few bugs, I'm sure. But I'm a bit concerned. If you fail to take Zouken out, he may come after us and cause trouble. I can't afford any trouble this late in the game."

"I won't fail. I'll do anything it takes."

"Anything?"

"Yes."

Kiritsugu rubbed his chin, then pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. He raised it to his ear. "Maiya. I need you to bring me something."

* * *

Shortly after, a dark-haired woman arrived with a plain brown suitcase, which she handed to Kariya. He clutched the handle. Kiritsugu had already explained what was inside.

"I won't be going with you," Kiritsugu said. "I have a plan for dealing with Kayneth and Lancer, and I'm heading over there soon."

"If you're going to confront him, don't you need Saber?"

"No. Actually, I think her presence would be a hindrance. She doesn't always approve of my methods."

Kariya wondered what sort of methods he was talking about, but he thought it better not to ask.

"I'll be in touch," Kiritsugu said.

Kariya nodded shortly. "Good luck."

"Good luck to you, too." He looked away. "I want you to understand—we aren't friends. We're temporarily cooperating, because it makes things simpler. Either you die tonight, and there's one less Master for me to contend with, or you succeed and help me eliminate one of my enemies. But if you give me any reason to suspect you of double-crossing me, I'll use a Command Seal to have Saber kill you."

"I know," Kariya said. "Thank you. For hearing me out."

"Well? Are you going to open the case?"

Kariya hesitated, then flipped open the latch and raised the lid. The contents were just as Kiritsugu had described. He swallowed, dry-mouthed.

"Needless to say, use it only if there's no other option," Kiritsugu said. "But it should do the trick."


End file.
